


A Message From The Author

by bastardbones



Category: Dangan Ronpa: Trigger Happy Havoc
Genre: Blood and Violence, Breaking the Fourth Wall, Celeste is a trans woman, Dark Comedy, F/M, Hifumi is an incel, Homophobia, Implied Sexual Content, Ishimaru Kiyotaka as Ishida | Kiyondo, Killing Game (Dangan Ronpa), M/M, Meta, Misogyny, POV Second Person, Slut Shaming, Trans Female Character, Transphobia, bury your gays
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-03
Updated: 2020-08-03
Packaged: 2021-03-05 22:27:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,502
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25692775
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bastardbones/pseuds/bastardbones
Summary: Celestia takes interest in a certain classmate. Hifumi isn't jealous, but a goddess like her falling for a dweeb like Ishimaru? Now, that's just bad writing.
Relationships: Celestia Ludenberg/Yamada Hifumi, Ishimaru Kiyotaka/Celestia Ludenberg, Ishimaru Kiyotaka/Oowada Mondo
Comments: 16
Kudos: 109





	A Message From The Author

**Author's Note:**

> This is a Hifumi centric story that nobody asked for. I just wanted to write something ridiculous. This is so ridiculous. It was fun writing the perspective of a "nice guy" that just, you know, really deserves female attention. Real "why won't you sleep with me?" vibes. Good fun.
> 
> Also, the fact there's a bisexual Mondo tag, but not a Taka tag. I see you.
> 
> EDIT: I'd like to clarify that I don't believe Hifumi, canonical Hifumi, is an incel. However, I do believe his character COULD be interpreted this way. No one came at me about this, but Hifumi is generally disliked in the fandom and I don't want this fic to be fuel to hate him, call him gross, etcetera...

* * *

Ishimaru has a forgettable face; just the kind of face you forget when you stop looking at it. He's not handsome, not ugly, just somewhere between boring and average. It makes no sense that Celestia, an absolute goddess like her, would give that dull, sniveling virgin the time of day.

She's sharing a cup of tea with him and the ingrate isn't even paying attention. His eyes flick between her and that biker guy, sitting a few tables over with Miss Fujisaki. You don't remember his name, because as if you care. Ishimaru is watching him from across the room, watching with his big, needy eyes, and _barf_. You could gag.

What a virgin. 

"I'm sorry." Ishimaru turns to you. "Were you speaking just now?"

"Why, hello, Hifumi," Celestia crinkles her eyes with a smile. Your cheeks go red and you fidget with your tie.

You don't like real girls. At least, at the very least, you've convinced yourself you're not attracted to them, in order to spare your heart from breaking. You are under no illusion, you know what you look like, you've seen the mirror. You know girls want pretty boys like Togami, or bad boys like Kuwata, or maybe even clueless boys like Naegi. You can picture Celestia with any one of them, but what you can't quite picture, what you cannot tolerate, is Celestia with a guy like Ishimaru. Ishimaru isn't a real guy — he's a pansy, _it doesn't count_. Celestia, well, she's a different type of girl. You don't _know_ , but you know

She rises from her seat, empty cup in grasp. Her hands are long and slender and nearly as large as Ishimaru's. 

"Hifumi, would you take this to the kitchen?" She gracefully offers her teacup. When you hesitate, she shoves it into your clammy fingers. 

"You're leaving?" Your face deflates with disappointment. 

"Yes." She spins on her heel, away from your direction, then beams at Ishimaru. "Are you ready, Taka?"

"You're leaving with him?"

"Mondo, too," she waves at the biker, who grunts in question upon hearing his name. "We're just getting to know each other better. Aren't we now?"

Ishimaru doesn't blush when she flashes her teeth. It's not fair. He doesn't deserve her attention when he's done nothing to earn it. You have been nothing but nice to Celestia, you think by now, she should have invited you for a private hang out. Yet here you are, alone in the kitchen, rinsing her dishes. You touch the place her mouth had rested, lipgloss smudged at the rim. 

You retreat to your bedroom, clicking the lock, creating the habit. You don't plan to be offed, this day or any other day, for a mistake like that. After the bloodbath with Kuwata and Miss Maizono, your classmates made a mental note on the dangers of unlocked doors and late night invites. You remind yourself that Celestia is too clever to be bested by a bozo like Oowada, or a limp wrist like Ishimaru. She isn't in any danger. 

Why is she befriending them? You try to rationalize her earlier behavior. You have been nothing but accommodating since day one, surely by now, Celestia can no longer overlook you. Yet she treats you like such an option, like the last book at the bottom of the bargain bin, chosen when there is no other choice, selected only by necessity. You're a good guy with a lot to offer. If only she or any other girl were willing to look past your outward appearance. Girls are shallow creatures. Girls will never invite you to their rooms and it isn't fair.

You rummage for your journal and search for any blank page. You press pen to paper:

_Celeste welcomed the boys into her room._

_They wasted no time in ripping her clothes off._

_How fortunate the walls were soundproof!_

_No one would ever know about this evening of teenage perversion._

Teenage perversion — really?

_No one would ever know of their ~~scandalous~~ lusty encounter, fueled by teenage desire._

Is that any better?

_No one would ever know that Celeste was a slut._

Yeah, that feels right.

You fill the whole page:

_Slutslutslutslutslutslutslutslutslutslutslutslutslut_

_slutslutslutslutslutslutslutslutslutslutslutslutslut_

_slutslutslutslutslutslutslutslutslutslutslutslutslut_

_slutslutslutslutslutslutslutslutlutskyrsliyrsjlutslu_

_tslitslutslkyrskiytsmlugslutudslutzliysskurskitsk_

_. . ._

_Ishimaru kissed her passionately on the lips._

_He explored the wet ~~cave~~ cavern of her mouth and traced every crevice with his tongue._

_Celeste moaned, intoxicated by his greedy touch._

_She impatiently reached for his hard cock, desperate to be filled._

_From behind, a ~~powerful~~ monstrous hand bent her over the bed._

_With little warning, she was penetrated by_

Dammit. The other guy. You keep forgetting his name. 

Whatever.

You toss your journal.

In the morning, Celestia seems chipper as ever. She trots over to you like a giddy preteen with a juicy secret. 

"Taka likes Mondo," she whispers into your ear. "Isn't that special?"

Today, they are sitting together. Ishimaru is smiling into the side of his hand and Oowada is really putting in the work, with his friendly grin and flirty winks. You resist the urge to roll your eyes. 

"That certainly is special."

"Don't be mean, Hifumi," she playfully scolds. "Haven't you ever liked someone?"

"I don't know," you shrug.

"Oh, whatever," she tosses her hand, unsatisfied with your answer. "Just don't tell anyone, okay?"

You can't imagine you would. They're so obvious. You can't hear it, but you see Oowada's mouth move around a particularly sweet word. Ishimaru blushes and laughs, genuinely laughs, and more than a few heads turn to the surprising sound. As you approach their table, Ishimaru corrects his posture and Oowada crosses his arms. 

"You know, right? About Celeste?" you dangle the question. They blink at you and your vague inquiry.

"I'm not sure I follow," Ishimaru responds. Oowada seems to be tuning you out.

"Well, I thought you might," you press a little harder. "You've been alone with her."

"Yo, man, don't gossip about a girl you barely know," Oowada scoffs. He's probably the kind of guy that defends a chick, then expects a reward for his heroism. The biker stands with a screech of his chair, then leaves the area.

"Enjoy the rest of your morning, Hifumi," Ishimaru bows and walks fast to catch Oowada. 

You bump into them throughout the day. That kind of thing happens a lot around here. Some days, you see the same classmate nine times over, while on others, you don't see them at all. What is that called? Synchronicity or pure coincidence? You suppose it is coincidental you synchronize to the same corner of the school as Ishimaru and Oowada, wrestling each other with tongue and hands. It is unfortunate to witness as Oowada slobbers on your archenemy and grabs a handful of his ass. They're too horny or too in love to notice you gawking from just beyond the staircase. Ishimaru makes a throaty sound you wish you could zap from your memory, but what's even worse, is you start to get hard. 

Oowada whispers something dirty, lips ghosting Ishimaru's before pressing them flush. The hall monitor is entirely seduced, eyes droopy, mouth agape. Oowada is a player, you decide, and of course Ishimaru is too weak to resist him. Oowada fondles Ishimaru beneath his clothes and you suspect they might do it, like, _actually_ do it. It's not fair. Where's your dystopian horror high school romance? Your mouth is dry and your pants are tight and as Oowada grinds Ishimaru into the wall, your brain short circuits.

You relieve yourself in the boy's bathroom. You spend some time in there trying to forget how watching those two made you feel. The deviancy of their actions had stirred something within you. It's easier to hate them than dwell on it. 

The bathroom door swings open just as you pull up your zipper. Before you have time to react to the angry clomping on the tile, Celestia is kicking open your stall. You flail.

"How did you know?" She backs you into the wall, claw to your jugular. "Answer me!"

She must be a mind reader. Unless Ishimaru and Oowada tipped her off. Sure, you were being nosey, but not _that_ nosey. Assholes.

"Your hands," you blurt. Her face changes when you say that. "It was your hands. It was just a guess — I'm sorry!"

"Who have you told?"

"No one!" She glares at you, unconvinced. "I swear!"

"Keep it that way," she threatens with a frown, before patting her dress clean and leaving entirely new.

The encounter is over in under a minute, but it's all you can think about that night in bed. Celestia is pissed. While she is busy ignoring you, she soaks up male attention elsewhere. From some intellectual conversation with Togami to a nonsensical debate with Hiro. She plays slapjack with Naegi, smiling innocently as she claims victory. If only any of them knew her secret, perhaps they wouldn't humor her so endlessly. 

You wander the school for what seems like hours, distracting yourself from Celestia and her petty punishment. Footsteps echo somewhere behind you. The heavy fall of combat boots is recognizably loud. You allow Ishimaru to pass. He is polite enough to say hello, but spares you the small talk. From just down the hall, you notice Celestia, turning the corner to possibly, you don't know, maybe patronize you?

She does it so casually. She flashes you.

Ishimaru stumbles back, knocking into your chest and you instinctively catch him to keep him afloat. Unfortunately, you're hard in the groin and Ishimaru feels it, he yelps and you drop him. He smacks onto the cold linoleum with a cry that rings down the hallway. Celestia skips away, dirt free. 

"What the fuck, man!" Oowada comes from nowhere, he's helping Ishimaru off the floor and growling at you. Obviously, he didn't see the whole thing. Just you, mishandling his boy toy. He threatens to knock out your lights before Naegi runs over to spout some diplomacy. 

You hate it here.

Oowada is like all those jerk-offs from junior high, the losers that snagged your glasses and laughed. The chads that pissed on your notebooks and howled. It's precious of him to befriend a dweeb like Ishimaru. Well, not friends. What's the term? Fuck buddies? Maybe Fukawa would know.

"Why w-would you even ask me a p-perverted question like that?"

She's holding out on you.

You spend the rest of the morning sequestered in your room. You masturbate in the shower, needing some source of inspiration, then plop down on your bed, head wet and uninspired. Eternity here wouldn't be so cruel if it weren't for tight asses like Ishimaru, or punks like Oowada. Seeing them grates your nerves. Watching them eye fuck in the cafeteria — _yuck_. It shreds your brain like cheddar. 

Miss Fujisaki is kind enough to accompany you for an afternoon snack in the kitchen. She slices cucumbers and stacks the pieces onto bread, slathered with cream cheese. The sandwich melts in your mouth. Food seems to taste better when a woman makes it. She looks cute in her kitchen apron.

"What are your thoughts on Oowada and Ishimaru?" 

"Hm? I like them," hums Miss Fujisaki. She hops on the counter, unbothered by the crumbs. "Mondo, especially. He seems scary, but he is actually really nice."

You want to tell her that she's wrong and he's a scoundrel. A sweet girl like Miss Fujisaki has no business with Oowada, a sexual deviant. He'll pounce on her the first chance he gets. 

And he does.

Just like you thought, Oowada is an idiot. So close to freedom and he exposes himself with a misplaced word. Truly, that is the power of language. The ability to twist the keys of life and death with a simple mishap. Good thing, because it was almost all of your necks, including Ishimaru, too blind to see that Oowada almost sent him to the gallows. He clings to his boyfriend, refuses to let go, arms around him in a desperate hug. Your classmates mistake it for bromance, but you scowl in secret. Oowada tells Ishimaru to live for the both of them. It's like a bad soap opera, like the kind that plays reruns only at 3AM. 

Your classmates spend the rest of the evening in silence, most return early to their rooms to escape the tense atmosphere. Everything that is wet oozes from Ishimaru. He is like a weeping wound of blood and pus, disgusting to see, dangerous to touch. Celestia holds him, anyway, reaches out like a confident mother to a delirious child. He squeezes her close, wrinkles the soft fabric of her dress, cries harder as she comforts him. You stand by, waiting for her to finish, but ten minutes pass, then fifteen, and then you're annoyed. 

"I'm staying with him," she says. She kisses his forehead and you pretend not to notice.

The following days, he is catatonic. Celestia walks him to the cafeteria, where his food cools and goes unconsumed. Most of your classmates give him a look of pity, then continue their activities. Empathetic Naegi decides to sit and retell the same six stories, as if he's chatting with a dementia patient in a nursing home. Ishimaru is unresponsive. You could tell him anything and he wouldn't blink. You wait until he's alone. You give it a try. 

"Your boyfriend was a monster! Feels pretty bad, huh? Not as bad as when he cracked poor Miss Fujisaki over the head, though," you taunt. You snatch his uneaten apple and take a loud bite. He doesn't flinch. "Boo-hoo. Now you two will never be canon."

That night, Neagi leads Ishimaru back into the safety of his bedroom. Celestia, however, seems to have excused herself of babysitting duties. You do not understand women. The moment they are not spoon fed attention, they latch onto the next guy that's dishing. Celestia acts as though you two are just the best of pals. As though your lonely nights and stupid boners have meant nothing. You share dinner together and you like watching the way she blots the corner of her mouth. 

"Follow me," she motions.

The next days are the best days. You wake up, unburdened by your situation for the first time. You disregard the bolts on the windows, the surveillance cameras, the maniacal bear that waves salutations. Celestia challenges you to a game of pool and you lose to the graceful flick of her wrist. You play a card game you're sure she's invented and lose every round, too. She tells you all games are won with strategy, memorization, and just a smidgen bit of luck. She is in her element and it is sexy, to be outdone by her, to submit to her. You will lose every time if it means seeing her so satisfied. 

In the art room, she loads a brush with nonsense colors and paints an abstract picture. Her eyes glaze over, the crunch of the bristles, the scent of the paint, they seem to have some therapeutic effect. You leave her to daze and write a poem in your best penmanship. Something about the texture of her hair and the glint of her earrings. You stare at your creation, crinkle it up, then decide it never existed. From across the table, Celestia flips her canvas, and giggles when you compliment her artistry. 

When the nighttime announcement is made, the two of you ignore it and idle outside her door, unready to part. You spend an hour talking about nothing, but it comes so easy with her and the conversations are gratifying. She leaves you with delusions and your heart begins to wonder. What's stopping Celestia from becoming your girlfriend? 

Ishimaru reinvents him with all the sanity of a grieving wench. As if his personality wasn't intolerable to begin with. His voice pierces your skull, with his bastardized interpretation of Oowada. You find him ridiculous. Celestia is on him like flies on shit. 

Ishimaru says something that makes Celestia throw her head back in laughter. There's no way he's that funny. The guy is awkward and you would laugh, too, if you were her. You notice her fingers drift by his back in a suggestion of touch, her pretty, painted nails lingering.

"So," you bulldoze Ishimaru, who barks in displeasure, "are you dating him now?"

Celestia turns with a whip of hair. She looks at you with all the kindness of a stranger in a crowded supermarket, like you didn't exist until your rude injection two seconds ago.

"Pardon me?" 

"Are you fucking him or what? Yes or no?"

She gasps. Her hand stutters in mid-air, like her first instinct was to hit you. 

"How _dare_ you," she fumes. She says it again, "How dare you! Are you seeing clearly? Perhaps you need a stronger prescription for those hideous glasses, because you do not seem to know who it is you're questioning. Do I look like someone you can speak to in such a manner?"

You have been nothing but nice to her. You have been nothing but patient. Most guys would have told everyone what a slut she is by now. Most guys would have had their way. You're not most guys, you're a good good, but even guys like you have a limit. 

"Ishimaru is gay and Celeste has a—"

"No!" This time she swings at you, but you're tall and she misses. She tries clawing your face. "Shut up! Shut your fat, useless mouth!"

"Oh, _shiiiiit_ ," Hiro groans, the first to notice the commotion. "Here we go."

"Celeste, calm down." Miss Kirigiri quickly steps in, using her body as a barrier between you and your classmate.

"No! Why does he get to do that? Why?" She jabs her finger at you, demanding an answer. You notice her accent is missing. "You don't get to decide that! Not for me! Not even for him!" 

She points to Ishimaru, currently at trial, but missing his defense.

"Everyone already knew, they were just being nice," you say like it's nothing. 

"No, we didn't, Hifumi," Naegi joins the argument. "We didn't know. Celeste, I'm so sorry."

His apology falls on deaf ears. He acknowledges Ishimaru's grievance as well, with a contrite pat on the shoulder. Ishimaru is a statue, his spine is erect, but his eyes dart between you and your hysterical classmate, almost freakishly so.

"I hate you, I hate all of you!" she spits, rattled that no one has come to her rescue. Her classmates aren't against her, but they aren't quite against you, either. The situation is puzzling and they maintain neutral ground. Celestia realizes this and screams. "You'll never understand the bullshit I've put myself through! Now, you'll never look at me the same way, again." 

"Let me take you to your room," Miss Kirigiri tries again, but fails to mediate. 

"Don't touch me!" Celestia shrieks, swatting at her. "You could have any guy, _any guy_ you want, and I'm stuck with this pervert harassing me."

You are a pervert, she isn't wrong to accuse you, but it hurts all the same. This whole time, you thought she was different, you thought she understood. You're peculiar, but so is she. Sure, you betrayed her trust, but she had it coming. Playing hot and cold, like the pressure wasn't building, like you wouldn't boil over.

"Hey," Ishimaru finally speaks. He offers a gentle hand to Celestia. "Let's go."

She glares at him with all the venom of a snake, before receding her fangs. She tries fixing her face, wiping her snot with the end of her sleeve. The mannerism is sloppy and uncharacteristic and it makes you angrier at her. She's supposed to be a lady, not a sniveling child. Maybe if she was woman enough in the first place, you wouldn't have exposed her like this. You fume as she accepts Ishimaru's invitation, with a sniffle and a sob. Your classmates watch in silence as Ishimaru, the good samaritan, escorts the broken girl from the cafeteria.

 _Taka_ , someone says. _What a nice guy_.

You wait for everyone to leave the area, so you can be spared the walk of shame. On the way to your bedroom, you see Celestia slumped on the floor, posed like a jointless doll. Ishimaru is holding her, she shakes silently against him before finally wailing into his shirt. He smooths down her hair, murmurs small affirmations, tries to undo the damage you have done. Her inky makeup stains his uniform. As you unlock your door, you make some unfortunate eye contact with Hiro, your neighbor. He shakes his head.

"Seriously, dude?" he sighs in departure.

_Celeste wept into Ishimaru's strong arms._

_Her experience in the cafeteria was nothing short of violence!_

_What a ~~brute~~ villain that Hifumi was._

_She felt as though she could no longer trust anyone with anything — certainly not a secret!_

_She ~~peeked~~ peered into the eyes of her rescuer and thanked him with a kiss. _

Whatever.

_Celeste hated Hifumi and Ishimaru fucked Celeste and Hifumi died alone — The End._

It's not fair.

You throw yourself a pity party, ripping the pages from your journal, tearing them to confetti. Stories no one will ever read, characters no one will ever care about, doomed to be unpublished the moment you woke up in this hellhole. What a waste. All you have is your pen and an imagination and nobody here values that. You could write a million poems to a million girls and none of them would look beyond your doughy face. Girls are sluts. Taeko Yasuhiro is a SLUT. 

You fall into a dreamless sleep. You awake many hours later feeling weightless and purged. You can't remember what you were so upset about, but then it hits you. You're collecting the torn papers from the floor when the knock comes. You kick the pile beneath your bed and answer without precaution.

Who else is at the door, other than the last person you expect? You are greeted by a disheveled Celestia, though she looks even worse than before. You're stunned by her appearance, her eyes are swollen, her running mascara. Her hair, usually neat and curled, is poking out in several places. 

"He-" her speech is disrupted by a wet hiccup. She inhales, then descends into sobs, "He raped me."

You tense up. In that moment, you convince yourself you were never really mad at her. Clearly, she needs you. She chose you. Your heart thumps in disillusionment. 

"Celeste," you hesitate, you hover your hands over her shoulders, unsure if you should touch her. She collapses into your arms.

"It's all my fault!" she cries. Her voice is choppy, but her accent holds true. "I'm such an idiot. I was asking for it."

"What? No way! He took advantage of you!" You hug her, burying your face in her hair and inhaling. She smells like tea leaves and vanilla cream. "I'll make him pay. I promise."

"Thank you, Hifumi," she sniffles your name. "I knew I could count on you."

She falls asleep in bed with you, curled up like a kitten and you hold her like she's just as fragile. You watch the rise and fall of her chest, trace the frills of her outfit with your eyes. You press your thumb into the curve of her foot and she moans as you massage her. You wonder how she walks in those heels everyday. You see the blisters on the back of her ankles and know she's overcompensating. 

"I'll help you kill him," she whispers into your ear. She feeds you the plan. She makes it seem like your idea, because of course it is. This is your world; everyone else is just in it. You can easily rip them from the pages. 

You set the trap. He takes the bait.

"Hey, Ishimaru," you greet him with bad intentions. You are blocking the only exit. "What's up?"

"Hifumi?" his eyebrows pull together. He glances at the note that's clutched in his hand. "I thought Celeste wrote this."

"Why would _she_ ," you scoff, "want to go anywhere with _you?"_

"I have no idea what you're implying." 

"For the _Ultimate Moral Compass_ or whatever," you spit his stupid title, "you're a deplorable person, Ishimaru."

That earns a reaction. He grits his teeth and points at you and your accusatory remark.

"Quiet!" he barks, with impressive ferocity. You've had enough of him. Someone should have killed him off, like, _sooo_ two chapters ago. You're pleased you get to be the one that does it, though. Maybe good things really do come to those who wait.

"That's an excellent idea!" you commend with a swing of your hammer. His skull cracks, the sound echoes horribly throughout the room. "You know, this could make a good fic! Maybe not a multi chapter, but a decent one-shot. Tell me what dying feels like. I want to take some notes for my next story."

"Please," he gargles on a fresh mouth of blood. "I'm not ready."

"Ooh, that's good! _Ishimaru reluctantly faces death_. So you wanna live then?" You press the heel of your shoe against his wound. His breath hitches, but he doesn't scream, too paralyzed with pain. "You know, I think that'll clear things up. So readers aren't stuck wondering if you died on purpose to be with your boyfriend. So sad."

"Mondo?" Fresh tears glaze his eyes. You watch as his hair darkens to its original shade. "Mondo."

"Yeah, that guy," you sneer. Ishimaru's eyes begin to roll back, losing consciousness as he loses blood. Damn, what a bleeder! You take a moment to wipe the fog from your glasses. You really want to remember this next part. "Have fun sucking his dick in hell."

"Wait-"

You hit him for the second time, the final time, with a grotesque squelch of your hammer. If he wasn't ugly before, then he is now. You spit on his face. 

Celestia congratulates you on a job well done, but it's not what you hoped. Haven't you earned a kiss by now? Shouldn't you be crowning your rightful place as her boyfriend? You follow the motions of the plan until she's standing over you, weapon in hand, looking very vengeful and very vindicated, as though she never liked you at all. 

"By the way, Hifumi, I did fuck him," she chirps, deceptively innocent. "I was his first, isn't that cute? He never did the deed with Mondo. And oh — _ooooh_ — his dick was huge. Make sure you jot that down."

You struggle for a reply. You want to call her a traitor, but that word isn't enough to encompass the severity of her actions. She played Ishimaru. She played you. During the trial, she'll act the victim and play all of your classmates, as well. You thought Ishimaru was the antagonist of your story, but lo and behold. 

"Tell me, what's that writing trope called. You know, when the virgin dies after sex? Because you," she lifts her hammer, "are about to get fucked."


End file.
